A View to the World

Now that the weather's warm, the front door is open often. I like to lie on the floor in front of the security door, looking out at the world through the bars. My posture is such that I am on my tummy with my forelegs propping me up and my hind legs spread out behind me. Less than gracious people may call this posture unladylike, but I prefer to think of myself as mimicking a sphinx, if the sphinx has two, little, pork chop-shaped, back legs.

I lie looking at the world in front of me. The porch wall blocks my view on two sides and most of the third. In front of me I see the school playing field and the people and dogs that are on it. I have a feeling that they should not be there in my field of vision. I scold them for their impertinent being there.

Birds hop into my view. I watch bugs fly by. I am alert, watching. My ears are perky, and I respond loudly to some far away noise. I have better hearing than the humans. They need me to listen for them.

When the sun goes down and the visibility is low, I lie there and bark out into the night, softly and with no purpose at all other than to announce my presence to the darkness.